hoping to finish before I showed you. I wanted it to be a surprise,” Amelia stammered. “For Sophie.”

The room was beautiful, but I couldn’t ignore the knot in my stomach.

“It’s beautiful, Amelia, but… Sophie says you’ve been very strict with her. No ice cream, making her clean alone. Why?”

“Very strict?” Amelia’s shoulders slumped.

“But I thought I was helping her become more independent. I know I’ll never replace Sarah, and I’m not trying to, I just… I wanted to do everything right. To be a good mother.” Her voice cracked.

“But I’ve been doing everything wrong, haven’t I?”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I said softly. “You just have to be there.”

“I keep thinking about my mother,” Amelia confessed, sinking onto the window seat. “Everything had to be just so.

When I started working on this room, I found myself channeling her without even realizing it. Being strict, maintaining order…”

She gestured at the perfect rows of books and the carefully arranged art supplies. “I’ve been so focused on creating this perfect space that I forgot children need mess and ice cream and silly stories.”

Tears spilled down Amelia’s cheeks.

“I forgot what she needs most is just… love. Simple, everyday love.”

The next evening, we brought Sophie up to the attic. She hung back at first, half-hiding behind my legs until Amelia kneeled beside her.

“Sophie, I’m so sorry I’ve been strict lately,” Amelia said.

“I was trying so hard to be a good mom that I forgot how to just… be there for you. Will you let me show you something special?”

Sophie peeked around me, curiosity winning over caution.

When she saw the room, Sophie’s mouth dropped open in a perfect “O.”

“Is this… is this for me?” she whispered.

Amelia nodded, her eyes glistening. “All of it.

And I promise, from now on, we’ll clean your room together, and maybe… maybe we could share some ice cream while we read together?”

Sophie stared at her for a long moment before launching herself into Amelia’s arms. “Thank you, new mommy. I love it.”

“Can we have tea parties up here?” Sophie asked, already moving toward the little table.

“With real tea?”

“Hot chocolate,” Amelia amended with a laugh. “And cookies. Lots of cookies.”

Later that night, as I tucked Sophie into bed, she pulled me close and whispered, “New mom’s not scary.

She’s nice.”

I kissed her forehead, feeling the last of my doubts dissolve.

Our path to becoming a family wasn’t straight or simple, but maybe that’s what made it real. We were learning together, stumbling sometimes, but always moving forward.

And watching my daughter and my wife curl up in that attic room the next day, sharing ice cream and stories, I knew we’d be okay.

Source: amomama